


The Sea Never Forgets

by jillyfae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The richest chocolate is bittersweet, dark and lingering on the tongue.  So too are the best stories, especially those told by old sailors.  A <a href="http://biowarevalentines.tumblr.com/">BioWare Valentine</a> Gift for <a href="http://ilikelookingatnakedmen.tumblr.com">illanm</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sea Never Forgets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ms45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/gifts).



_They say the Sea is a harsh mistress.  She'll break you, body and mind, with the rush of Her water and the pull of Her weight, and then She'll collect the shattered pieces of your soul with the shift of Her tides._  
  
 _But it's only Her due, after all, and She may never consider too deeply that one extra heart amongst all those She's gathered, but you'll know it was worth the cost.  Because the Sea is always free, and the Sea never forgets._

* * *

The first time it was because of the rum.

They'd started in the tavern proper, and when Corff kicked them out they'd staggered upstairs and she'd taken out the good stuff, the dark brown bottle of her very favorite brew, the one it was hard to get further south than Rivain itself.

They were celebrating the death of a nightmare, or so she'd claimed when she bought him his first drink.  Really, she was trying to help him finish exorcising his ghost.  Isabela knew a fair bit about hauntings, after all, and could see his still weighing down his shoulders.

She'd teased him, as usual, about strength and sex and choices, and had been positively shocked when this time, when they were both drunk enough the room was starting to tilt pleasantly, a bit like being at sea on a mild spring day, he'd said yes.  

He'd bent her over her desk, as powerful and merciless as a storm.  Not that she'd minded, oh no, not at all, each thrust of his hips like a gust of wind, the sort that snapped the sails and made the whole ship shudder.  

Some orgasms were like waves, a crest, a fall, pleasant enough but easily left behind.

That night she'd felt thunder and lightning, her fingers clawing at the edge of the wood as his hands held her tight and his cock filled her full and she'd ridden out his need with her own, taking him deep until neither of them could take it anymore.

She felt his breath, hot on the back of her neck, a pause when he was done, as if there was something he'd forgotten.  But he left without a backwards glance and she slept well that night, deep and dreamless and alone.

* * *

_They say the Sea is fickle.  But I have never felt Her so; to me She has always been the most constant of companions, the most reliable of fates.  I am not her only lover though, not even close.  Perhaps that is where most people are mistaken.  She is greater than any one of us, not tied down by place or time or need. She can be constant to us all, all at once and forever._

* * *

The second time she got to take his clothes off properly.

And her own, of course.

Isabela followed Fenris home one night, just to see what he would say.

He didn't say a thing, one lifted eyebrow and a curving half-smile, and he waved her inside and walked close behind; she could feel his eyes watching her hips as she swaggered her way up his staircase and into his bedroom.

She made him wait for it, this time, undoing just one single buckle and dropping one small curve of leather on the floor before looking at him over her shoulder and waiting.

His smile twitched just the slightest bit wider, and he took off his gauntlets.

He had several more layers of armor and clothing than she did, but she had a lot more buckles.  It evened out quite nicely, the last slip of fabric hitting the floor and leaving them both completely naked in the dim and dusky air of his room.

He had good skin.  It seemed darker than usual, fading into the gloaming between the shine of his scars, but it was warm and smooth beneath her fingers, and it shivered pleasantly against her tongue.

He did more than shiver, when she took his cock in her mouth, and his breath grew heavy and his thighs flexed and he growled softly when she swallowed.  

She did more than shiver, when he slid his fingers inside her, green eyes fixed and still as he watched her face, learning what she liked.  He learned fast, and when his hand settled into a pleasing rhythm his mouth found her breast and his teeth found her nipple, and it wasn't long before she arched beside him and let a cry of pleasure escape her throat.

And then of course they did it again, her thighs gripping his hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust up inside her.  She rolled her hips and shoulders and pushed her hair back out of her face so she could watch the shift of his muscles across his chest, the shadows in eyes that were full of lust instead of anger, the line of his neck and the twist of his lips as she clenched around him and they crested together, heat and pleasure and wordless voices entwined in the dark.

She gathered her things afterwards, wandering home to her own quiet bed, the sheets cool as she tossed and turned.  She couldn't remember her dreams in the morning.

* * *

_Of course, a hot-blooded pirate can't live just on salt air and the shift of a ship beneath her feet.  Even with a regular influx of booty.  Both kinds._  
  
 _The Sea may carry you anywhere you can think to ask, but She can't keep you warm on the journey._

* * *

It surprised her, at the end of all things, with a pile of Hawke's gold weighing down her pocket, all set to buy a ship of her own and escape the heavy grasp of land at last, that she didn't want to go.

Or, rather, for once in her life, Isabela didn't want to go _alone_.

But that was ridiculous, she didn't tie herself to anyone anymore.

Well, there was nothing wrong with literally tying each other down, of course, but the sort of ties that weren't really ties tended not to have easy knots for undoing, or safe words to make them go away, but were invisible and intangible and inescapable.

She always needed an escape route.

Didn't she?

Well, it couldn't hurt to ask him, now could it?

Which was a stupid thought if ever she'd had one, of course it could hurt, that was the whole point, the whole problem, the whole hope of it all in the first place.  Pain let you know you were alive, but she much preferred proving her existence with pleasure.

If she was very lucky, the second outweighed the first, at least for awhile.

It had so far, with Fenris.

Who was waiting for her at The Hanged Man, his pack by his feet and his sword on his back.

"Where to now?"  He had a hint of a smile, the one no one else ever saw, the one that made his body ease and his eyes light up and her heart lift and her lips smirk back at him.

"Wherever the wind takes us, lover."  It took but a moment for her to gather her own pack, to wave one last farewell to the barkeep and stride out the door, Fenris but a step behind.

***

They had to walk, first, away from Kirkwall, along the Coast, escaping the smoke and the chaos and the refugees.

He bought her chocolate, at the first decent sized town.  Brought it to the inn and kept it hidden until the door was locked and the lights were dim, and only then did he feed it to her, one tiny sliver at a time, licking the traces off her lips and his fingers until neither of them cared about the chocolate anymore, strong hands taking turns pinning each other to the bed, his mouth on her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her hair trailing along his skin just after her lips when she rolled him over and took her turn.

There was something different, tonight, the knowledge that this was their bed, together, not his mansion or her room, not a quick tumble in a place they weren't supposed to be in at all.

Neither of them would be leaving, afterwards.

His arms wrapped around her, her legs held him tight, and she realized as they came together, the slow glide of skin and slick and heat, that she would be perfectly content if neither of them ever left again.

For the first time, that night, she called his name as she came, a shudder of breath and a release of tension and a confession, all at once.  He buried his face in her hair, afterwards, breathing deep as he stroked her skin and whispered her name in return.

She slept warm that night, the heat of his skin beside her, the echo of his voice in her dreams.

* * *

_We sailed together for over a decade, storm and salt and tears and laughter and his surprisingly insatiable urge for chocolate.  But even the best of partnerships cannot last forever, and the lyrium in his skin eventually wore him down.  He made me promise to give him to the sea when he died, said it gave him a better home than land ever had, warmed him better than any fire._  
  
 _He'd given himself to the Sea, just as I had, if only because She'd brought us together, for as long as we'd had.  And She'll hold his heart for me, until I'm ready to join them beneath the waves._


End file.
